


Previously unbelievable things

by bluejbird



Series: Interconnected [4]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Sexuality Crisis, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 07:11:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8788546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluejbird/pseuds/bluejbird
Summary: Jim is straight. Isn't he? But the priestess is convincing enough that Jim's starting to reevaluate his worldview. Or, the one where aliens make Jim realise Bones is his soulmate.





	

Jim smiles politely at the Kandairean priestess. 

“There must be some mistake,” he says smoothly, flashing her a pearly white smile and just the right amount of charm, which usually gets people nodding in agreement. 

But the priestess shakes her head. “Our seers are never mistaken,” she says. There’s a quality to her voice that brings to mind bells chiming. It’s melodic, as beautiful as her lavender skin and black eyes, and Jim wonders whether priestesses on this planet are chaste, or if they’re able to engage in interspecies relations with visiting Starship captains. 

He makes a note to raise his question with Spock later, if he doesn’t find out for himself. Mostly just to see the Vulcan’s left eyebrow shoot up above his hairline. 

“Then perhaps the mistake is mine,” Jim says, easily owning the miscommunication. It’s one of the best lessons he’s ever learned about diplomacy – taking the blame on his own shoulders for tiny blunders. It makes cultural meetings like this go much easier, and that is always a good thing. “Our computer translated ‘K'tarl’ as ‘soulmate’ in our standard language. Our definitions of this may be different to yours.”

“A K'tarl is one’s destiny,” the priestess explains. “The person you are tied to most closely in the universe, who would live and die for you.”

Jim inclines his head. “We would call that a soulmate,” he agrees, “but that would also describe a brother in arms, or a best friend. Which would fit with what your seers, well, saw. Doctor McCoy and I have been friends for many years now.”

The priestess shakes her head. “We have terms for such people, too,” she says. “But a K'tarl is very specific. Two souls, eternally intertwined, and two bodies, attempting to intertwine as closely as their souls.”

Jim’s stomach feels funny. “Are you…” he tries to put it delicately.

“Talking about sex?” the priestess finishes, laughing. “Yes. We are a species of sexual beings, Captain. Our people are free to engage in any such consensual activities without shame. I assumed your people were the same.”

“We are,” Jim says weakly. 

“Then if you are not currently in a sexual relationship with your K'tarl, I urge you to remedy this. One cannot truly experience happiness until the two souls are reunited.”

Jim stares at her for a moment, then clears his throat. 

“Well,” he says slowly. “I appreciate the advice, and also the hospitality.”

The priestess bows to him, and he returns the gesture. As they walk back to the rest of the landing party, it feels like an invisible figure is walking between them, keeping them separate. And Jim knows any chance he had of bedding the beautiful woman is completely gone. Not that he’s particularly in the mood for that now. 

“Five to beam up,” Jim says, after the landing party has bid the Kandaireans farewell. 

They materialise in the transporter room. And Bones, damn him, is already there, scanner outstretched. 

“Any new venereal diseases for me to catalogue, Captain?” Bones asks as he scans Jim. There’s a smirk on his face and teasing in his tone, just like there always is when Jim returns from a mission uninjured. Jim knows he’s waiting for a lighthearted quip. or an eye roll. or even a playful scowl in return. But Jim can’t muster any of those things. He’s too busy avoiding Bones’s eyes and trying not to focus on the sensation of their shoulders brushing as Bones leans in closer.  

“I have some paperwork to attend to,” Jim announces, hurrying away before Bones can start his normal poking and prodding. He doesn’t want to feel his friend's hands on him. Not today. 

Unfortunately, Bones sticks by his side, consulting his scanner as they walk. He doesn’t seem to notice anything is wrong, and is grumbling away about something. 

And suddenly Jim can’t take it any more. He gives Bones a wide-eyed, scared look, then bolts down the corridor, literally running away from his problems in a way that he hasn’t done since the Academy. 

“Jim!” Bones shouts after him. “What the hell–?”

But Jim just keeps running. 

He doesn’t go to his quarters. That’s where everyone would go to look for him first. And he can’t go to any of his usual haunts – his ready room, his favourite table in the mess, the observation deck – because Bones would know where to find him. Instead, he hides out in one of his secret favourite places, an out-of-the-way catwalk high up above engineering. Jim knows every inch of his ship, including the best hiding places, where no one will ever go. It always proves useful when he needs time to think without distraction. 

And he needs to think. Jim isn’t a stranger to being told bizarre things by alien species, and he’s long learnt to take everything with a pinch of salt. There are always ceremonies and machines and seers, so he hadn’t even blinked when they’d presented the knowledge like it was a gift. He isn’t sure how their seers work – that they had picked out McCoy’s name without meeting him, or knowing he was a member of the crew, was a neat parlour trick.

Perhaps it was simply that they were telepathic enough to pick up on a name circling in his head, and that it was Bones had just been down to chance.  He could just as easily have been thinking of Spock or Scotty or any of his crew members. Any of his family. 

The explanation seems realistic enough, and he knows he could grasp it, ignore everything else, and carry on as if nothing happened. Except…

Except that the reason he’d felt so uncomfortable at the priestesses words was that they seemed so right. As if his body recognised the truth while his mind rebelled against it. 

Jim rests his forehead against the cool metal barrier, and wonders if this is what an existential crisis feels like. He’d go to sickbay and ask, except the doctor and psychologist on shift both happen to be the same person, and the cause of his problem. 

His K'tarl. 

Jim’s not sure he believes in such things, but he’s experienced enough previously unbelievable things to at least keep an open mind. 

This is testing the boundaries of his belief, though. 

Because Bones is his CMO, his doctor, his best friend. But also, apparently, his K'tarl. 

Soulmate. He rolls the word around in his mind for a few moments, considering it. 

Jim isn’t stupid enough to deny that part. It’s very possible, and incredibly likely, that Bones is the only person in the entire universe, possibly in the multiverse, who loves him unconditionally and without expecting anything in return. He has stood behind Jim at his best, stood beside him at his worst, and stood in front of him refusing to surrender when death came a-knocking. 

To Jim, Bones is sanctuary and trust and a reminder that it doesn’t matter how many people call him sir and look at him with hero worship in their eyes, he’s still Jim Kirk, former and sometimes current fuck up, who has worked damned hard to get where he is. Bones is a reminder of his humanity and his heart and his honesty. 

But they’re not...like that. He’s slept across the room from Bones for years at the Academy. He’s slept in the same bed as him when they’ve been too exhausted to go to their separate quarters, or when they’ve had to double up on planetside missions. He’s listened to Bones breathe and snore, watched the rise and fall of his chest, listened to him scold people in his sleep. 

And at no point in that time has it occurred to him that, apparently, they should have been fucking like bunnies this whole time. 

And it’s not that Jim doesn’t find Bones attractive – he is, in a grouchy, prickly, bossy and frown-y kind of way – it’s just that Jim has never looked at a man that way before. Jim likes women. He likes the scent of their hair and skin, and the taste of them. He likes that when he slides inside them, it feels warm and encompassing and welcoming. 

Jim has never questioned his preference before. Hangups about sexuality were phased out well before World War III, when it became clear that who someone loved or sought solace in was no one else’s business, assuming it was consensual. And he’s contemplated it before – it would increase his dating pool considerably if he could muster even the slightest dick twitch for the same sex – but without success. So it’s not some deep-seated fear that’s making this revelation so shocking to him. It’s just…

He wonders if maybe he’s had feelings all along, that have been kept buried deep down inside. And that’s what scares him. Because Jim Kirk likes being in control, and aware of everything, including what’s going on inside his head. He’s never lied to himself – he always admits his mistakes and his screw-ups, never denies that for a long time he was a complete shitbag who didn’t deserve the second chance he was given. So if this is something he’s thought about before, in the recesses of his mind where thoughts don’t always swim to the surface, then he’s going to be really fucking pissed with himself. 

Jim ponders what Bones as his K'tarl means. It isn’t hard to picture a future together. He’s always just assumed Bones would be there. The assumption is based on the fact that if Bones has followed him into space and, despite every protestation he makes, he’ll follow Jim into the future too. Jim had always figured, assuming they survived that long, they’d eventually retire at the same time and grow old together. He’d never pictured anyone else in their futures – friends and family, yes, but no romantic interests. Bones had never seemed interested in settling down with anyone, and Jim had never found someone who kept his interest for more than a few months. 

Besides Bones of course. And perhaps that was the twist. Perhaps in a world where, to Jim, sex happens first and then, maybe, possibly, everything else follows after, it makes sense that his soulmate is someone with whom everything else came first, and sex will just naturally follow. 

Jim lets himself imagine kissing Bones. He lets himself imagine Bones’s mouth on his dick – and how good it would feel to silence his grumblings and fussing for a few glorious moments. He lets himself imagine sliding into Bones and fucking him and pushing delighted moans from his throat. And he imagines touching Bones, touching a cock that isn’t his own, stroking it to climax. He imagines Bones fucking him, up against a wall, his hands held above his head, pressing himself back to meet him.  

Since he’s being honest with himself, he has to admit that all of that sounds pretty amazing, actually. 

So maybe there is something to this whole K’tarl thing. And maybe his is Bones. 

Jim runs tactics in his head, trying to plan his next move – because now that this is a possibility there seems very little point in not acting on the information, assuming the outcome is likely to be positive – when his comm chirps and Spock calls him down to the transporter room. 

When Jim arrives, Spock is staring at a very ugly statue on the transporter platform. 

“What the hell is that?” Jim demands, wrinkling his nose in distaste. 

“A gift,” Spock says simply. “From the Kandaireans. For your K'tarl.”

Jim stares at him for a moment, and then grins. “Oh,” he says, filled with amusement. “Bones is going to  _ adore _ it.”

Spock raises a brow, and Jim realises what he’s said out loud, and hopes that Spock has no idea what the word means.

“I’ll take it to him,” Jim says, partly because after his little existential crisis he’s ready to see Bones and get the ball rolling, so to speak, but also partly to get away from Spock’s level, knowing look. 

He grabs the statue – which is heavier than it looks – and hurries down to sickbay. 

Bones is in his office, nose buried in a PADD, and Jim lets himself in and sits down, plunking the statue down on the desk between them.

Bones glances up, then returns his gaze to his work. “I take it this means you’ve decided to stop running away from me and let me just–” 

His head lifts again, eyes narrowing as they look at the statue. 

“What in the blue blazes is that monstrosity?”

“A gift,” Jim says, grinning toothily and leaning back in his chair. 

Bones stares at it, then at Jim. He seems lost for words. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“No,” Bones says firmly. “No, it definitely is not beautiful. Take it away. Immediately.”

“No can do,” Jim says. He folds his hands across his stomach. “It’s a gift for my soulmate.”

“How lucky for them,” Bones answers drily. “Is it to be passed from person to person, as some kind of a ‘Jim Kirk flavour-of-the-week’ trophy? Or will you just engrave it with names? I don’t know if it’ll be big enough, though.”

Jim feels a flash of hurt and tries not to bristle. He’s surprised that that’s how Bones thinks of him, even though, in Bones’s defense, he isn’t exactly wrong based on previous evidence. But he pushes those thoughts aside for later. 

“No, you moron,” Jim says. “It’s for you.”

Bones gives him a look that clearly says he thinks Jim is a simpering idiot. “No, thank you.”

“No take backsies,” Jim says, holding up his hands. “And it seems like you don’t have a choice. The seers have spoken.”

Bones gives a long-suffering sigh and finally puts down his PADD, giving Jim is full attention. He waits for an explanation. 

And so Jim tells him. The only thing he leaves out is that he’s been hiding out for the past hour and a bit processing the information. He skips straight to the part where he’s beginning to think it’s a good idea and that Bones needs to get on board this freight train to soulmate town, ASAP.

“So,” Jim finishes, studying Bones’s face. “That’s that. We’re soulmates. And I want that. I want you. And we should probably, I don’t know, go and have sex soon.”

Bones has listened, unmoving, unflinching, without a word for several long minutes. Which worries Jim. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Bones this still and quiet before. 

“Bones? Say something.”

Bones licks his lips, frowning slightly, and Jim tries not to fixate on the sweep of his tongue, or that his lips look pillowy and soft, or to wonder if Bones frowns when he comes. And he tries not to wonder why he hasn’t noticed any of this before, hasn’t pondered these same things previously. 

“Well,” Bones says slowly. “That’s just great. It’s wonderful that it’s sparked some sexual revolution in your head, and that you’re now thinking of all of the ways two males can fit body parts together, which I’m sure will greatly expand your opportunities to seduce every alien race in the galaxy, and for me to diagnose new and excitingly horrific STDs. And I’m glad that, as always, you’re all gung ho with a plan, because it’s good to see you occupying your brain rather than your dick for a change. But has it occurred to you at all what I want?”

Jim sits in the chair, stunned as if he’s just been hit at close range with a phaser blast. Because, honestly, it hadn’t. Everyone seems to want Jim. He can count the times he’s been turned down on his fingers (Uhura counts as just once, even though he’d asked her multiple times, and still sometimes does just for old times’ sake). He’d just assumed Bones would say yes too. 

“But,” Jim says. “But, soulmates.”

“I don’t believe in them.”

It’s a fair answer, and Jim’s not sure he does entirely either, although it’s hardly an unexplored concept in the galaxy. He’s sure he can get Spock to talk to Bones and convince him otherwise, with long lectures about bonding and whatnot that might annoy Bones so much he’ll give in just to get Jim to call Spock off. 

“The priestess says that you can’t experience true happiness until you and your soulmate...join,” Jim says. “I’m pretty sure that means fucking,”  he adds helpfully, and a little hopefully, too. 

“Lucky for me happiness isn’t exactly high on my list of priorities,” Bones says. “I like misery, and it likes my company perfectly fine.”

Jim deflates a little, then turns the tables. “It’s fine to deny your own happiness, Bones, but are you going to rob me of it, too?”

It’s a dirty card to play, but Jim’s desperate. He hadn’t expected this. He’d been so sure that Bones would swoon into his arms and then they’d have sex with one of them perched on Bones’s desk, notes and PADDs swept to the floor. It’s a fantasy that had popped into his head far too fully-formed for someone who’d never thought of Bones in that way before. 

Bones looks like, maybe, he’s going to give in, so Jim flashes him a winning smile, full of the old Kirk charm. 

It’s a terrible mistake. Bones’s face closes down. 

“No,” Bones says. “And I’ll tell you why. It’s because I’m too old to take a tumble in the hay, to risk everything to become another notch on your bedpost. And I like my job, so I’d rather not go through the hassle of transferring to a different ship and having to get to know a whole new crew of idiots who put their health and safety second to the thrill of adventure.”

The words cut Jim to the core, and he grimaces. But Bones isn’t done. 

“I don’t want to be another body, bundled out of your room in the middle of the night, or someone who can’t meet your eyes when we pass in the corridors. If I do have a soulmate – and I’m not saying I do, because Lord knows no one wants to be stuck with me, and I have a failed marriage and estranged family to show for that – they’ll be someone who wants more than a quick fuck. They’ll be someone who wants a relationship. The old fashioned kind, built on respect and trust and love, not a nice ass.”

Jim opens his mouth – to defend himself, to tell Bones that he wants a proper relationship, too, and to ask whether that means Bones thinks he has a nice ass – when they’re interrupted by someone shouting, “McCoy!” out in sickbay. Bones hurries out without saying a word. 

It never takes Jim long to come up with a new plan when the old one turns out to be a disaster. It’s part of the job – thinking on your feet, keeping on moving forward. It’s something on which he prides himself. 

And, really, the answer is obvious. 

He sends Bones a simple message. 

_ I’m sorry about today. Please give me a chance. I’d like to take you on a date. A real one.  _

Bones’s response is simple:  _ Haha _

_ I’m serious _ Jim shoots back.  _ Tomorrow, after day shift. I’ll pick you up. _

It takes awhile for the response to come back, but it makes Jim’s heart flutter a bit in his chest. 

_ Fine. _

As promised, Jim arrives at Bones’s door half an hour after day shift is over. When the door slides open, Bones gives him a wary look, as if he’s waiting for a punchline or, perhaps, worried that he’s the punchline instead. 

“You look handsome tonight,” Jim says, and Bones looks even warier, but lets Jim inside. 

Jim hands over some flowers he’d bartered from Sulu for an extra day of shore leave, and a bottle of Scotty’s moonshine that he’d won at a poker game a few nights earlier. 

“I thought you’d prefer that to chocolates,” he explains, and Bones snorts, but takes the gifts. 

“Better than that godawful statue,” he says. “Which is still taking up space in my office, by the way.”

Jim ignores him. “Have you eaten?”

Bones rolls his eyes. “When exactly would I have had time to eat? Three engineers came in first thing with second degree plasma burns, then I had to inoculate half the crew against Talaxian croup before we arrive in their system next week. And now you’re sweeping me off on some ridiculous pretense.”

“Ridiculous, but delicious,” Jim says, escorting Bones from his room to the nearest turbolift. They head to one of the observation decks, where he’d arranged for dinner to be left. Bones makes a happy, hungry noise when he sees the food, and digs in immediately.

Jim watches him for a few bites, fondness curling inside him. He’s always enjoyed moments like this with Bones. The quiet moments, when it’s just the two of them. It feels comfortable, and he wonders if this is part of that whole idea of love, of that idea that their souls are twined together. 

Bones catches him watching, and glares. 

“What?”

Jim shakes his head slowly, and turns his attention to his food. He can feel Bones’s gaze on him, and wonders what he sees.

When he looks up, Bones’s expression has softened. 

“This is...nice,” Bones says eventually. 

“It is,” Jim agrees. “Maybe we can do this again. Maybe as a regular thing a few times a week. Until…” He doesn’t want to push it, but Bones gives him a look that is almost hopeful. 

“I’d like that,” Bones says. 

When they’re finished eating, Jim leads Bones over to the largest observation screen. They look out into the blackness together, at the stars as they pass. And he feels Bones shiver. 

“Shit,” Jim says, the thought occurring to him that this might not be the best place for someone with aviophobia. “Sorry. I didn’t think–”

“Shut up,” Bones says, and Jim feels his hand slide into Jim’s. “You know perfectly well that I feel safe in space when I’m with you.”

Jim hasn’t held anyone’s hand since he was a blushing fifteen year old with an acne problem and a very strong desire to lose his virginity as soon as possible. But it’s nice, and comforting, and right. 

“It’s the soulmate thing,” he says, a half whisper, and Bones barks out a laugh. 

“You’re persistent, I’ll give you that,” he says. 

Jim smiles at him. “You have no idea.”

He wonders how long it will be until Bones lets him kiss him. How long until he gets to touch Bones’s skin, to taste him, to move against and around and within him. 

Patience has never been Jim’s strong suit. And a couple of days ago, the idea that he’d be dating someone, let alone his best friend and CMO, would have been laughable. 

But, now? Now, it’s okay. It’s worth the wait. 


End file.
